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“Very well,” he said shortly. “What is it?”
Father Sutton took a relieved breath. “Your wife is extremely upset, my lord. She told me what transpired this day and begged me to escort her here.”
“Did she request sanctuary?” William asked suspiciously.
“Nay, she did not,” the priest answered. “Sire, she brought with her all of her jewels, everything of value she has. She has given them to me for penance for your action. She wants me to pray for your soul.”
William looked at him, stunned. Then, slowly, the selflessness of her action dawned on him and he slumped, putting a weary hand on his face. He had been so damn sure she had come here to flee him, when in fact, she had only been thinking of him.
He felt foolish, guilty, and overwhelmed. “She did that?” he asked.
“Aye,” the priest dared to smile. “She is deathly afraid you are going to spend eternity in hell for murdering the queen’s woman and hoped that all of her combined valuables would buy you salvation, though she still does not believe it to be enough.”
William looked at Paris in astonishment. Then he had to turn away and compose himself. Did she really love him that much that she was concerned for every little part of him, including his immortal soul?
“What is she doing now?” he asked huskily, his back still turned.
The priest’s gaze moved between William’s back and Paris’ face. “Up until a few minutes ago, praying with her cousin,” he replied. “But at this moment, we are starting on the mass for the wedding tomorrow. I have never even spoken Gaelic and will need both of their assistance.”
William squared his shoulders and faced the priest. “Then I will leave her here to work. My knights and I will be outside the church, waiting to escort her home. My orders are to have her back before the evening meal.”
The priest thought a moment. “Then that gives us about four hours. Aye, we should be done in plenty of time.”
“Good,” William’s voice was no more than a whisper as he turned away and headed back down the hall.
“Captain,” Father Sutton called after him. When William stopped, he continued on. “Was it…was it truly necessary to kill the woman?”
“She is not dead,” William replied faintly. “You might want to mention that to my wife and give her back her jewels. You certainly do not need them.”
The priest simply smiled and reentered his room, quietly closing the door behind him. The small monk offered the knights food and drink, but William refused, instead descending the tight staircase and retrieving his equipment.
Outside, he felt as if he could breathe again. But he was not sure he would fully recover, nor understand the depth of his wife’s devotion to him. He was so unworthy of her.
He spent the afternoon contemplating Jordan and her loyalty. Nearly three hours later, Jordan and Jemma finally exited the church. But the women stood at the door, gazing back at the knights with uncertainty. William nudged Kieran.
“Come on,” he said softly.
The two men walked to within several feet of the wary women, with all four of them gazing at each other and no one speaking. William could read the pain and sadness in his wife’s eyes and cleared his throat.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded silently, but didn’t move. The standoff was becoming uncomfortable until Kieran finally moved forward to Jemma.
“Come, my lady,” he took her arm gently.
“I can walk,” Jemma yanked her arm away angrily. She had obviously not forgiven him for being so rough with her.
Kieran sighed apologetically and grasped her arms, forcing her to face him. “Sweetheart, I am sorry I was harsh. But you gave me no choice.”
Her amber eyes flashed. “Ye pushed me.”
“Aye, I did, but you were fighting me and I had to do something,” he said. “Hell, look at this bruise on my eye. You did that.”
She hadn’t realized she had hit him. She looked at the bruise and suddenly felt guilty for it; it was quite purple. Her hard stance wavered.
“I…I dinna mean to hurt ye,” she said, then suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “But ye scared me. Ye were going to…to….”
She could not go on and he felt a surge of emotion, relief as well as regret. He pulled her to him, whispering soothingly to her, and led her away to his destrier.